Thinking Out Loud
by kickstergal
Summary: She looks up to see that same mischievous smile. "I get that you're not quite yourself. But I have to say, I'm pretty intrigued that you're just the tiniest bit afraid of me right now." Regina has a lot on her mind lately. Emma helps her figure it out.
1. Chapter 1

There was a place she goes to in her mind, for solace, for rest. She is her own worst enemy and there are times when she needs to restore the balance – to be free of her own judgement, disdain. There is a horror and fear at her own actions that needs to be forgiven, not once but thousands of times, with the result that she stays relatively sane, and more importantly able to care for her child.

There is a tightness of breath, an unnamed urgency to her thoughts, a strange tension that underlies her every move lately, that tells her she needs this time. The weight on her heart and her mind when she woke this morning sealed the deal.

So, she sits cross legged in her study, breathing deep and quiet, while her in mind she walks along a long golden path lined with apple trees. Sunlight filters through them, catching the gold in the brick at her feet and the golden highlights in the hair of the one who walks beside her.

In her study, Regina shakes her head to clear it. _You don't need impertinent blondes in your sanctuary, sweetheart._

She closes her eyes, and resumes her walk. The sound of the leaves crunching underneath her feet makes her smile, as does the scent of apples in the air, the heat of the sun on her skin. She can feel herself getting stronger, steadier with each step, and with a wave of her hand stray leaves go skittering crazily along the path. She laughs out loud, in her mind, and the sound is clear and free.

"You don't think twice about it, in your head." Emma observes wryly from her post to Regina's left.

Regina stops. "You're not supposed to be here." The tone has a hint of imperiousness in it, but she has to admit she's not at her usual threatening best.

Emma tilts her head mockingly. "How do you propose to stop me?"

Regina opens her eyes. "Damn her." Meditation was not going to happen today. She still feels edgy, anxious, and she's terrified that Henry will pick up on it, with his sixth sense for her moods.

A knock on the door has her cursing again. _You'd think they'd have learnt by now that pissing me off is a very bad idea._

She yanks the door open, intending to deliver a full-blown lecture at considerable volume, then stops, momentarily stymied.

Emma steps into the silence. "Coffee?" She is dressed in a hoodie and jeans to combat the autumn chill, and in her hands she carries two coffee cups.

The smell of caffeine carries on the cool air, and the scent is almost enough to throw her off course. Almost. She finds her voice, and manages to convey high suspicion, to her relief. "What are you doing here?"

Emma merely looks her up and down, then holds out one of the cups. "I'm going to repeat the question, nice and slow. Would. You. Like. A. Coffee?"

The gesture, and the fact that Emma appears to be everywhere she's not wanted today, has her grabbing the coffee cup, and gritting out a semi-polite thank you.

Emma casually leans against her porch railing, clearly signalling her intention not to leave. "You're welcome. I hear you got yourself banned for the next week from the diner. Care to comment?"

Regina is flustered, but not by any means stupid. "Who's asking?"

Emma shrugs. "Just me. The Sheriff hasn't received a complaint." Emma grins wickedly. "I just heard the gossip and came to find out if it was true."

It's Regina's turn to shrug, if only to hide the flush she can feel creeping up her neck. "Not true." She takes a casual sip of coffee.

Emma raises her cup in a salute. "Fair enough." Her eyes track to the cup in Regina's hand. "It's not Caramel Whip, I'm afraid."

Regina glares at her. Emma stares innocently back. One beat. Two. Regina breaks. "That woman is a menace to society, as well as a gossip-monger."

Emma placidly takes a sip of coffee. "Well, gee, if we wanted to be really strict on how we define a menace to society, perhaps we wouldn't be looking in _Granny's_ direction…" She shoots a pointed look at Regina from under her lashes, and Regina snarls.

"I'm going to sue for defamation."

Emma grins. "No, you're not. Because then Granny can countersue for destruction of property."

Regina's mouth falls open. "I knocked over one cup of coffee stirrers on my way out! How is _that_ destruction of property?"

Emma drains her cup, stands up. Something about the glint in her eye is inexplicably making Regina nervous. "So, you _did_ throw down an epic rant at Granny about not having Caramel Whip in stock, and then storm out." She pauses. "Oh, sorry. At that point knocking over some coffee stirrers on your way out. Just the one cup."

Regina automatically looks for the loophole in the conversation, finds none. Grinds her teeth. "Yes."

Emma takes a step forward. Regina doesn't take one back, but the fact that she has the impulse to infuriates her. "So you made a false statement, Regina?"

Regina thinks quickly. Seizes on something to turn this whole thing around. "I thought I was talking to Emma, my _friend_ , not Emma, the Sherriff."

Emma just smiles, and this time Regina knows that there's definitely trouble behind that smile. "Ah. We're friends, are we?"

"No." Regina glares, although she's fairly certain that this will have no effect whatsoever.

"You just said so."

"Under duress."

Emma laughs. "Yeah, that'll hold up in court."

Regina narrows her eyes. "Sure it will."

Emma rolls her eyes briefly heavenward before grabbing Regina's free hand and yanking her down the stairs.

She pulls back, only to be hauled forward with the strength she knows is there. Knows that when she's had occasion to test that strength it has always held firm. She gives up, and begins to walk alongside Emma. Emma drops her hand, but stays close.

 _So I can't run._ _This was better when she was just being a pain in the ass in my head._ Regina sighs. "What are we doing?"

Emma sends her a sideling smirk. "We're going for a walk. Then when you take me to court you can tell them I kidnapped you while you were under duress. Friend."

She rolls her eyes. _Yep. Much better in my head._

 **A/N** : Just a little something I had in MY head. Where will they go? What will they do?


	2. Chapter 2

She feels no sense of peace as she walks beside Emma, largely thanks to the sense of expectation she can feel emanating from the woman, although the blonde is holding her tongue. _For now._

As if she can sense the sarcastic thought, Emma clears her throat. She ignores this blatant display for attention and focuses instead on the autumn light, picking up the burnished tones in the leaves in the park they are walking through.

Emma clears her throat again, and she is goaded into sending her a sidelong, slashing glance at the other woman, before ignoring her completely.

At the third sound issued, she whirls, just resisting the urge to stamp her foot. " _What_ , Miss Swan."

Emma grins. "Wow, _Miss Swan_. Haven't heard that one in a while."

She wishes, briefly, that she wasn't trying to be reformed, and that actually removing a smile from someone's face was still in vogue among wicked witches and evil queens. "I am still waiting for an explanation as to why you dragged me from my home to frolic in dead leaves."

"Your heart."

She falters from the hearty retort she had intended on giving, with something like nerves rising in her belly. "What?"

Emma shrugs. "My light magic. It keeps…developing. Sometimes now I get a sense of yo- people, now and then, how they're feeling. I pick up on things – not thoughts. Emotion."

The careful poker face had her hackles raising. But somehow the odd, shuttered look in Emma's eyes made her ask a question instead, phrased as a statement. "You don't like this new power you're experiencing."

Emma looks quickly at her, then pushes off again. _Not to run_ , she recognises, _but from a need to move. To leave behind troubling thoughts._ She knows better than anyone they always follow.

She catches up, and Emma huffs out a breath. "I hate it. I can read people pretty well, you know? But it's always one step removed. This… this gets me too close. It's too much, and it somehow makes me responsible, like I'm not responsible for enough already. I just… I need a little distance." She ducks her head, hunches her shoulders, and Regina knows it's because of the thought of saying the same things to her parents. It's the reaction to the imagined disappointment in their eyes.

She knows just how to deal with a pair of meddling Charmings. "Well, of course you hate it, dear. Who in all the land wants to deal with people and their _feelings_? Nobody knows what they want until you tell them, and so any effort on your part trying to sort any tangled webs of emotion out is completely wasted. Trust me, Miss Swan. You're better off blocking them, until you choose to listen." She ends her theatrical rant with a raised brow, intending to make the other woman smile, or at least provoke her into espousing the good in people or some other such ridiculous do-gooder nonsense.

To her surprise Emma is studying her intently. "I can block it?"

She is shocked enough to speak without thinking. "You haven't been taught how?"

At Emma's quick, embarrassed shake of the head she spins away, stalking through the leaves in the fading light. She forces herself to stop, clenching her fists into her palms to quell the rising tide of magic and rages within her. _Control, Regina. You need to be very, very careful._ "They know this is a side effect of light magic. They should have informed you." She speaks to the park gates, knowing that if she turns to face Emma she'll pick up on the fury coursing through her.

"Why are you angry?" Emma lays a light hand on her shoulder. Regina closes her eyes, the rage clashing with the storm of self-hate that she has let herself get this out of control, especially knowing that Emma can pick up on it now. Viciously clamping down on her self-control, forcing back the temptation to slash, attach with magic, she reaches back to grip Emma's hand, turning to gently guide it back to Emma's side.

"Touch intensifies it. It's like a conduit." She explains, completing ignoring Emma's question. She waits a beat for the inevitable challenge. When none is forthcoming, she inclines her head, indicating that Emma should accompany her back through the gates, towards home. The sun is starting to set, and with an inward jolt of panic she realises Henry will be home soon, and she still isn't steady by any means. _Worse, than this morning, if anything,_ she acknowledges to herself, wryly.

"If you take Henry tonight, I'll give you a lesson on how to manage this tomorrow." She makes the offer casually, projecting calm confidence to combat the terror, deep down, that she isn't even able to manage herself.

Emma is silent beside her, as they walk through the streets, and she begins to plot excuses for whatever emotion the woman must be picking up on. _I've just been having a bad…life._ She imagines Emma's face if she tried that one, and almost gives in to hysterical cackling.

As they near her house, Emma finds her voice. "I'll take Henry, on one condition."

She tries for a dark sneer, and she tries to convince herself the tremor in her voice is supposed to be there. "Name your price."

Emma looks her in the eye, and she knows she's fooling no one. "I stay here tonight, with Henry. I'll watch him, give you space to do…whatever. But I stay here."

She tries for glib, to make some sarcastic comment about bed bugs or luxury hotels, but can't do anything else but respond to the seriousness in Emma's voice. "Okay."

Emma nods, sealing the bargain. "Okay. I'll go pick up Henry, and we'll be back in an hour." She strides away, and Regina realises she has an hour to pull herself together before her son and his mother return.

 _Well, you wanted a challenge, Regina._ The problem was, she couldn't really recall having decided that she did.


	3. Chapter 3

She hasn't completed her journey along the gold path of bricks, but day has turned into night, and she well knows that danger lurks in the dark. She well knows that too often she's been one of the creatures in the dark that others fear.

So, in her mind, she has created a cave. Not big enough for a queen, but enough for a woman desperately running from herself.

"Why a cave? You're directing your own meditation; why would you pick a cave?"

"It suits the need." She says quietly. Then glances, irritated, at the blonde staring at her through the flickering flames of the fire she's created. There's something comforting about watching the orange light dance, something that lulls her into believing the illusion of safety she has created for herself.

Emma just snorts. "What need? To hide away from the world?" She crosses her arms. "You have someone downstairs who will suit all your needs." She hesitates, then smiles, and there is something just a little bit feral in it. "And I do mean _all_ your needs."

Regina shakes her head, puzzled. "What is that supposed to mean?"

As she watches, the flames dim slightly, and Emma leans forward. "Come downstairs," she says softly, "and find out."

She blinks, and Emma has vanished.

In her study, Regina opens her eyes, feeling panic rise. She rises to glare at herself in the small mirror on her desk. "You do _not_ have an infatuation with Emma Swan." She tells herself firmly, and that would be that, except for the fact that Emma Swan has shown up unasked in her mediations twice, and except for the fact the memory of those eyes staring at her through the flames chases her down the hallway as she goes to seek her son.

Henry, of course, is out cold. She pulls his sheet higher, even though he's old enough to do that for himself, and smooths back his hair, even though he would endure her fussing with a grimace if he was awake. While he sleeps, she can't worry or scare him, and she's grateful for a moment she knows is all too rare.

In the hallway she pauses, irritated to find there's a strange excitement coursing though her, along with uncharacteristic nerves. _Stop it, stop it, stop it._ As she proceeds, she wonders wryly if the incantation will work.

In the kitchen, Emma sits at the table with an open tub of icecream beside her, reading, and eating out of the tub. She glances up as Regina enters. "Hey. You missed dinner, but there's leftovers in the fridge and, erm–" She has the grace to look sheepish. "-Icecream."

Amused despite herself, Regina opens her pantry cupboard. "You are not eating that the proper way."

Emma rolls her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I should have used a bowl, how dare I mess up your anal retentive living space -oh."

Regina waggles the bottle of chocolate topping gently before setting it down with a pointed thump beside Emma. "You need this to go with it." She waits for an apology.

Emma just considers her briefly, smiles. "Thanks."

This isn't quite the display of grovelling regret she had in mind, so she opts for sarcasm in response. "I would hate to mess up my anal retentive living space by getting you a bowl." She stalks across the kitchen to a drawer, yanking it out to retrieve a spoon. Stalks back to sit down. "Give me that."

Emma watches her as she scoops up icecream, carefully drizzles the topping over the spoon. "Wow, would you like some icecream with your chocolate sauce?"

She glares. Speaks around a mouthful of icecream. "I've had a hard day. I deserve this."

"Spoken like the employee of the month for Hershey's."

Telling herself she's not about to smile or laugh, this time she opts for deflection. "What are you reading?"

Emma sighs. "You're going to love this. _Bossypants_ , by Tina Fey."

She's not going to ask. Isn't. Going. To. Ask. "What constitutes a bossy pant?"

Something mischievous flares in Emma's eyes. "Oh, gorgeous dark hair, expressive eyes, penchant for sexy clothes. Answers to Regina, or Evil Queen, depending on the day."

She feels something close to delight coursing through her, and resolutely concentrates on her icecream. "You're calling me bossy."

Emma shrugs. "You asked the question."

There's a pause, while she ponders this. "Well. If being direct and not wasting time making sure everyone's hurt feelings have been appropriately soothed, then I guess being bossy is quite a character strength."

She gets an eye roll in response. "Ladies and gentleman, the Evil Queen."

This, again, is not the apology she expected. "Bossy is not a bad thing."

"Depends on who's being bossed. And how."

The words sound innocent enough, but suddenly, she can't take a full breath without being aware of the beat of her heart. "Yes. Well." She can't meet Emma's gaze, can't summon either the cold indifference or innuendo that are usually as natural as breathing. "I'll clear up."

A hand on her arm stops her. "I'll do it. You need to sleep, and we have my lesson tomorrow." Emma raises a brow. "See, I can be bossy too."

"Yes, I see that." She can feel the pulse of Emma's magic along her skin, raising goosebumps. It's too close, too uncontrolled. _She's reading you, Regina._

She carefully slides away from the table, towards the door. "Thank you for being here for Henry tonight."

"Regina."

She looks up to see that same mischievous smile. "I get that you're not quite yourself right now. But I have to say, I'm pretty intrigued that you're just the tiniest bit afraid of me right now."

Her instinct is to bluff, so she follows it. "I –"

"-I wouldn't try to deny it." Emma hold up her hand, waggles it. "Super light magic powers, remember."

There's a feeling now, as they take each other's measure, that makes her feel like she's about to step off the edge of a cliff. But, she's too well versed in self-preservation to do anything silly.

"The only thing I'm afraid of, is chocolate sauce stains on my table." The second it's out she knows she's made a tactical error.

She waits for Emma to approach, make an innuendo, yank the invisible string that has been connecting them for some time. She's shocked to discover she's holding her breath, that nerves and excitement are spreading under her skin, all because of the possibility that this strange tension between them might be resolved in this way.

But, Emma just smiles. Slowly. "Go to bed. We'll pick this up tomorrow."

And, feeling very much like the fly in the web of a spider, she does.


End file.
